so put another dime in the jukebox, baby
by strangesmallbard
Summary: He chuckles and runs two fingers across his face, along the raven's feathers. "What can I say, I'm a free bird, and I thought I'd broadcast the overdone metaphor to the entire world. Speaking of, do you know Freebird? Lynyrd Skynyrd?" Malora, and every fandom needs a band AU, right?


A/N: I don't know why this is happening, but here it is. A Malora band AU. And by AU, I mean deeply AU, like you could probably consider this an uber fic. Slightly inspired by jetalveran on tumblr's roadtrip AU. I've kept certain elements from canon, although some are more subtle than others. There are also a few background ocs. Aurora is nineteen in this, and Maleficent + Diaval are twenty-one and twenty. The Title is from "I Love Rock N' Roll" by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. In any case, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Hello?" Aurora takes out her earphones–currently blasting _Bad Reputation–_and her voice echoes through the unlit parlor, seems to travel all the way up a flight of stairs.

No answer. Her father must be in his study.

There must have been a time when this house glittered and gleamed, with its rich wooden studies, marbled floors, crystals on the chandelier reflecting sunbursts of golds and reds and pinks through the tall, tall windows. Perhaps when Aurora was still very small and her mother was still alive, and her father found more reasons to exist than his own ambitions. And actually paid attention to Aurora for a change, as if.

Now the marble just looks _grey_, everything looks _grey_, the brass a muddy brown from lack of polishing, and there are dust particles all over the windows. It looks like an abandoned mansion, those big ones in the hills she and her friends would sneak into in the middle of the night. Add some shredded curtains and the imagery is right _there._ She lets out a loud breath and re-inserts her earphones, shoves her hands into her jean pockets.

Figures. She calls her father, which she _never_ does, specifically to remind him that she's visiting today, buys a premium two-way bus ticket for the ride because Phillip bailed and she has late classes on Tuesdays so the only option remained _was_ premium because it would get her back to her hometown before nine pm. And he's forgotten her.

Story of her life, really. Carts her off to live with her aunts when she's just four because he couldn't deal with the grief of losing her mother. Gets a promotion and decides to take her back at age twelve, but not to have a daughter no, but to improve his image to families. He gave her singing lessons, though, so she supposes she can't be too bitter.

She runs up the stairs, and turns a corner to her father's office, a great dark wooden door with a shiny silver nameplate. She remembers one of the first things he told her when she came to live with him, so very excited at the prospect of her father actually_ wanting_ her with him instead of visiting once a month. _Knock before you enter, Aurora. But only if I'm truly needed. I'm a busy man with many things to do and I can't be interrupted._

She takes a deep breath and pushes open the door.

"Hello, dad." She says flatly, hand still on the doorknob.

He starts and looks up. He looks the same as always has these past few years, unkempt greying beard, ill-fitting suit, tie loose. He blinks a few times and then furrows his brow.

"Aurora, what have I said about disturbing me when I'm working? And shouldn't you be at school?"

She purses her lips. "It's Tuesday."

"So?" He crosses his arms and drags out the _O_, more like a petulant toddler than an esteemed businessman.

"Tuesday night. We were going to have dinner tonight at that new Italian restaurant?" She reminds.

He blinks a few times and drops his arms. "Dinner, right." He furrows his brow again and clears his throat, like he's about to give a lecture. He claps his hands together and gives her a tight smile. "My apologies, sweetheart. I must have lost track of the time. Unfortunately I'm not going to be done for a while...I'm sure there's pasta in the cupboards."

She deflates a little and wonders why she's surprised. She lets go of the door handle and wraps her arms around herself. "Fine, yeah. That's fine."

He sits back down, picks up his pen again. "Close the door on the way out?"

She rolls her eyes, but he doesn't see.

* * *

Aurora makes pasta and she nearly burns the noodles because it's been a few months since she's had access to anything but a microwave. There's no marinara, however, so she just used half a stick of butter.

It's a bit tasteless, but she eats every bite.

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen looks barely used. Cupboards full of dust, most food expired. She's fairly certain there's mold growing in the sink but she's not going to clean it, she's not his _maid_ after-all. Let him suffer the consequences for once.

She stares at her phone and wonders if any of her highschool friends are in town. Lily's in New York City, becoming that grand actress she's always dreamed of being. Kate's in Missouri, Todd's in Florida, Matt's in San Francisco. And that leaves...no one. And she has a few hours before her bus leaves and she might start shaking if she has to stay in this cold, empty house for one more second in a room still built for a twelve-year-old.

Fuck this.

An idea starts her into standing. She wonders if _The Kingdom_ still had open mic nights.

* * *

The hole-in-the-wall bar and cafe is in full swing, some dancing to someone singing a slightly off-key rendition of a _Lady Gaga _song, others sitting in mismatched chairs with mismatched tables all around, others nursing beers and laughing at the bar. She eyes the signed records still hanging all around the walls, the pictures of semi-famous singers and guitar players surrounding them. Margaret, the official hostess, though most people who come here already have unofficial designated tables, has pink hair this month. She spots Aurora and smiles brightly.

"Haven't seen you around here in a while, Rory! How's college treating you?"

She smiles, despite something raw still tugging at her chest. "Alright, though I might eat my words come finals. Sophomore year, you know."

She snorts. "I don't, but I'll take your word for it, sweet pea!" She gives a wave before being flagged by a server.

Aurora stares at her usual table, the one she claimed with her friends when they were just freshmen, but it's occupied by a new group, and it's a bit of an unwelcome blast to the past seeing shaggy hair and fishnet gloves and bright smiles, and she wishes for a moment that she felt as young as them.

Eventually she goes to sit at the bar and for a moment wishes no one knew she was just nineteen, she could try to fake her way into a cold beer. She leans her head on her arms, feels the thrum of the beat seeming to vibrate through the wooden counter.

Two hours until the buss. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Well don't _you _seem glum, chum." She lifts her head and comes face to face with a tattoo of a raven, wings spread on the side of a man's forehead, the man himself a stranger. Immediately, she tenses.

"What's it to you?" She snaps.

He holds up his hands. "You're Rory, right? Rory Stevenson?"

"How the hell do you know my name?" (Though she hasn't _been_ Rory in a while, considering the nickname got somehow dropped when she went away to school.)

He sucks in a breath. "I'm still shitty at first impressions it seems like, my apologies. I overheard Margie talking about you. Said something like _Did you see? Little Rory Stevenson is back! Poor girl, she looks like she's had a bad night. I hope she still sings, what a voice she has._"

She raises a brow. "Alright, _still _doesn't explain why you felt the need to come over here. Who are you, anyway?"

He clears his throat. "Diaval, Ms. Stevenson. I have a last name but it holds no relevance, so I rarely use it. And I'm here because when I hear the words _sings_ and _what a voice_, I follow the breadcrumbs. So is it true, do you sing?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, since I was thirteen." Diaval pauses their conversation to order two beers and she wonders who the second one is for. With wide eyes, she realizes it's her as he slides the second over to her.

He winks. "Didn't need Margie to tell you need one."

She pushes it away. "Look, I'm not interested."

"Ah." He says and lifts his hands again, this time his shirt sleeves edging down. She eyes feather tattoos up and down both arms. "Like I said, _really_ shitty at first impressions. I'm not hitting on you, darling. You're not quite...my type, should we say." He hints by darting his eyes over to the male bartender, and _oh_. She blinks.

"Regardless, I am truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable." She gives a hesitant smile.

"It's alright, just don't do it again." She takes off the cap of the beer and takes a long drink, relishes the bitter burn. "Thanks for the beer, I did need one."

He claps his hands together. "Will never do again, and you're welcome. Now that my awkwardness is out of the way, back to your voice. I'm starting a band with a good friend, and we're currently rather lacking both a drummer and a lead singer."

She snorts. "Without either of those you don't even _have_ a band."

"Exactly." He says and with a smirk, takes a long swig of his beer.

She stares once more at the feather tattoos, the raven on the side of his forehead. "So you have a thing for birds?"

He chuckles and runs two fingers across his face, along the raven's feathers. "What can I say, I'm a free bird, and I thought I'd broadcast the overdone metaphor to the entire world. Speaking of, do you know _Freebird?_ Lynyrd Skynyrd?_"_

She raises a brow. "Yeah?"

"Well, I might have queued you as the next singer."

She laughs. "You are terrible at first impressions."

He sighs melodramatically. "So I am. Will you sing? You don't have to, I can always take the slot and wow them with some mellow bass."

Aurora glances over at the stage, the singer already there thanking the crowd for their enthusiastic cheers, the band taking a quick water break, the stage lights in their pinks and greens and yellows baring down and the single stool being brought out in case the next singer wants to sit.

She feels that _rush _of nerves she always got before performing and it invigorates her, and maybe this is what they mean by divine intervention.

She takes another long swig and it rushes through her limbs, numbs the rawness just a little bit, all her synapses excited and alive. She stands and smiles at Diaval.

"I'll sing."

He gives a _whoop!_ just as Margaret calls her name.

* * *

Though it's been a semester since she last performed, the thrill never quite left her bones.

The lights are hot and bright, and she can't see the audience, and before her eyes readjust, the murmurs are just indistinct shadows and figures. Behind her she can here the soft sounds of retuning and adjusting of instruments to the keys she needs. She brings down the microphone and clears her throat a few times as Margaret announces,

"Now returned to us from the world of academia, the insurmountable Rory Stevens with _Freebird_!" She smiles at the cheers that follow, the few regulars who remember her yelling out _Yeah Rory! _as the well-known chords start up. Though the older crowd at _The Kingdom_ rarely wanted anything to do with the younger crowd, they made an exception for Rory and her voice. A quick glance at her usual table and a few of the kids there had looked up, perplexed to see someone closer to their age getting this kind of reception._  
_

Just before her cue, she notices someone standing next to and talking to Diaval by the bar. She's staring at Aurora, looking up and down, her gaze slow and deliberate. When their eyes meet, Aurora is struck by bright, vibrant green. She hesitantly smiles at her, recognizing her as Diaval's bandmate. After a moment of pursing her very red lips, she smiles back, full and brilliant and beautiful.

Aurora nearly misses her cue.

* * *

"Damn, Rory!" Diaval says as she jumps off the stage. She got an encore, and thinking back to the playlist she had been listening, had decided on a _Joan Jett and the Blackhearts_ song.

She's breathless and smiling and damn that felt _good_. It felt good in every part of her body, every part of her soul. She needs to perform more again. Maybe the cafe back at school needs some entertainment or maybe she'll suck it up and check out the advertisements on the board.

"Thanks!" She says and he hands her back her beer. "It's been a while, but it looks like I've still got it."

"You definitely do." A low, smooth voice replies and Aurora is suddenly face to face with the eyes that mesmerized her before the song. She's a bit taller than Aurora, dressed in leather pants, a black blazer, hair long and straight and sleek and shiny. Aurora swallows, her face burning for different reasons other than the afterglow of performing.

"Although." She cocks her head. "I wouldn't have quite pegged you as a _Joan Jett_ type."

She grins cheekily. "Not many do. But you've got to sing what you're feeling, right?" The woman smiles again. Aurora wants to find more reasons for causing that smile.

"Indeed."

Diaval flashes his eyes between them, like he knows something Aurora doesn't. "Aurora this is my friend I was talking about earlier, Maleficent Moors." She nearly spit takes her beer.

_"Maleficent_? Like the evil fairy from _Sleeping Beauty?_"

A raised brow. _Shit_. "Yes. It usually gets mistaken for a stage name, but the truth is my mother had an intense love of fairytales and Disney."

She giggles. "Mine did too. My real name is actually _Aurora._"

Maleficent raises another brow, but it's more in amusement. "Oh, really? Does this make us automatically bitter enemies?"

Aurora smiles and leans in, lets her eyes run up and down as slowly as Maleficent had before, this time really taking in strong features, the red lips, high cheekbones, those _eyes_. "I hope not."

Maleficent's eyes widen in interest and flick to her lips and she hears a loud _sigh _and _goddamn lesbians__ in every facet of my life_ from Diaval.

"Me too. And call me Mal, dear, nearly everyone does despite my protests." Aurora clears her throat and steps back, quite flushes.

"Mal and Rory." She tests it out on her tongue. "I like it." She says and wonders where all this confidence in her flirting is coming from. Especially with a woman who was most likely a year or two older than her. Usually around girls in general she becomes mute. Must be the beer.

Diaval coughs to get their attention and Maleficent glares at him. He gives her a cheeky grin and she hits him with her elbow and Aurora can see the many years of friendship. For a moment she misses her own close friends, the ones scattered across the country.

"So everyone's met each other, awesome! Rory, I think, if it'll work for you, that you'd be a very welcome addition to the band."

"Would practices be here?" Aurora asks.

"If I can convince Margie, yes. Otherwise somewhere in the area." Aurora snorts. Fat chance of that unless they could open up during happy hours the next day after their first rehearsal.

She bites her lip. "It could only be on weekends this semester, but I'm back here all summer."

"That could work." Diaval says quickly and gives a pleading smile. "So you in?"

She thinks about the rush of performing, her father in his dark, cold study, and then Maleficent's so very green eyes and how this is the first time she's felt really grounded in so very long.

"Yeah." She breathes and this feels like tangible _change_, the crispness of spring to summer, from one era of existence to to the next. "I'm in."

Maleficent smiles and offers a hand. Aurora takes it, transfixed by long fingers and soft skin. Her grip is firm and solid and safe. "Welcome to the family, _Aurora_."


End file.
